


Tongue in Cheek

by liketolaugh



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, But important ones, Gen, Post-S1, super senses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 11:17:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12057879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liketolaugh/pseuds/liketolaugh
Summary: Matt's super senses make Foggy uncomfortable, he'll admit, but that doesn't mean he's willing to let Matt go. He just has to get used to them. Asking about Matt's habit of putting everything in his mouth seems like a good place to start.





	Tongue in Cheek

Some days, it was like nothing had changed between them. They’d go out to spend a night together, just eating dinner at a greasy spoon somewhere, and they’d make jokes and tease each other and laugh, and it was as if they had never fought.

(Other days, the outing dragged on with awkwardness until one of them cut it off with an uncomfortable smile and a polite excuse, and they both walked away feeling like nothing would ever be right again.)

Today, thank God, was one of the former, but even on those days there were things Matt did, things Matt had _always_ done, that hung anxiously between them, screaming, to Foggy, _why didn’t you ever notice?_

Even as the thought crossed his mind, Matt started slightly, head starting to tilt towards something they’d passed in interest before he stopped himself and visibly returned his attention to Foggy, who cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Head in the clouds, buddy?” he asked, an old response that fell automatically from his tongue.

In return, Matt grinned at him, an easy one he’d seen a thousand times before. “Always,” he replied cheerfully, never losing the rhythm of his tapping cane.

And at once it felt like a crushing, overblown _lie._ Foggy’s smile, already forced, fell.

Matt must have picked up on something, too, heartbeat or breathing or _temperature_ or whatever, because his fell too, and he swallowed, his hand tightening very slightly on Foggy’s elbow. “Do you want to drop by the bakery you like?” he asked, an obvious peace offering. “We can get bagels.”

He had to ask. He _had_ to ask, or they would never move past this.

“Sure, buddy. Sounds great.”

Foggy was a coward.

* * *

 

He finally plucked up his courage in the bakery, after both of them had finished their bagels, when they were just lingering, keeping in from the cold. Matt had picked up one of Foggy’s shed gloves, and he was chewing on one of the fingers.

“That’s gross,” Foggy said, but he wasn’t that bothered; it was an old habit of Matt’s.

An old habit of Matt’s.

_Just fucking ask, you idiot._

“Is that a weird hypertaste thing?”

Matt went still. Foggy felt a little like throwing up, and he wasn’t sure if it was from nervousness over breaking the new and tentative status quo, or how _worried_ Matt suddenly looked.

He wondered what his heart was doing, and if Matt was listening.

After a long and tense moment, Matt took Foggy’s glove out of his mouth and pushed it across the small table, expression slightly pinched. After another moment, he nodded.

“Yes,” he said, voice pitched quiet. He cleared his throat and then continued, a little louder, “My sense of taste is pretty understimulated compared to the rest of them, so once- Um. Anyway, yes, yeah. It’s a hypertaste thing.”

Foggy kicked Matt under the table. It was what he would do if he felt more confident about this, right? “Tell me.”

Matt could hear his heartbeat and smell how long it had been since he had showered and when he’d last jerked off. It was fact, it wasn’t Matt’s fault, not really. Wasn’t any weirder than Candace being a psych major, except- anyway. Foggy just needed to get used to it.

He _had_ to, because it was Matt and they were best friends and Foggy had once been comfortable with Matt knowing everything about him anyway.

Matt started to sit up a little from his nervous-hunched position, hope starting to peek into his expression- which made Foggy feel a little better about this, honestly.

“Once Stick taught me how to interpret the information I got from hearing and smell, the world got less overwhelming,” Matt explained, slow and careful but not overcautious, now.

“Stick’s your Mr. Miyagi, right?” Foggy prompted. Matt smiled a little and nodded.

“Yeah, that’s him. Anyway, once everything got less chaotic I noticed how little I got from touch and taste, and it felt- wrong, I guess? I fidget a lot too.”

Foggy nodded, and then, before he could think better of it, “I nodded.”

Matt’s smile relaxed a little. “Taste is a lot less subtle,” he said, and his voice had picked up in energy too, now. “I can taste things on the air, but nothing I can’t smell, really. So I lick things.” A smile that was almost a grin. “The nuns were kind of worried about it, but Stick just told them it was a phase.”

“A phase that was still going on in college,” Foggy jabbed, and this was teasing about Matt’s powers, if he could tease him about it they would be fine again. He picked up his glove again, grabbing a napkin to rub Matt’s spit off, and he felt confident enough now to take the next step. “What can you taste off my glove?” Matt held out his hand. “Dammit, Matt.” Foggy gave him the glove anyway.

Matt smiled again and put the index finger of the glove back in his mouth.

“It’s a cotton-polyester blend,” he said after a moment, taking the glove out as an afterthought. “Too old to still taste strongly of the dye. You must have dropped it at one point, because there’s dirt on it, with a little bit of runoff from a dumpster.”

“Then why were you chewing on it?” Foggy interrupted, a little horrified at his friend.

Matt smirked. “There are much grosser things,” he assured Foggy. “There’s a little of your sweat here, and you rubbed your cheek with it a day or so after you visited Marci, because I can taste lipstick residue and I don’t think anyone else kisses you on the cheek.”

“Screw you, Murdock,” Foggy said, and he laughed. It felt- good. It felt better when Matt nearly beamed at him afterward and, as a gift, gave him his damned glove back.

The tension between them had relaxed entirely, Foggy realized, and the next question he asked had no other motivation than curiosity.

“You _want_ to taste all that?” he asked. “It sounds disgusting, I don’t _care_ if there are worse things.”

Matt shrugged, ducking his head a little.

“It adds color to the world,” he offered, just a tad wistful.

“Huh,” Foggy said, a little softer, and then nudged Matt’s elbow with his hand. “Come on. If we stay here any longer they’ll arrest us for loitering.”

“Sure they will,” Matt said dryly, but he stood up anyway and tucked his hand back into Foggy’s elbow, and they left, and they felt fine.

“Do you ever lick electrical sockets?”

“I’m not _five,_ Foggy.”


End file.
